I'm filling up
like a landfill
my heart is starting to feel
like an anvil
And I'm starting to think that maybe,
Maybe this world's not meant for me
or me for it
or us for each other like in a
"mutual" break up
which is an idiom,
because love is never quite
symmetrical.
See, love is like a heart drawn by a
fifth grader.
It's never quite the same
on either side
and if you ever told them they were wrong
for drawing it that way
you lied.
Because that:
lop sided
sloppy
hunched over heart,
that:
innocent
delicate
Beautiful heart,
Is exactly what love is.
When we're older,
we learn to draw straighter lines
to hide our shaking hands.
Don't let them know you're nervous.
We learn to whisper what we don't want heard,
To make silent our thoughts,
in public.
Fights were meant for closed doors and walls
that are never quite thick enough
to keep words that hard, from breaking them down.
Even the fights,
that you fought against someone
who looks much too like you.
When, then, can I open my mind like a book
for only them to read.
When can I open my chest like a puzzle box
for them to put together.
When can I apologize for having before,
what I only ever wanted with them?
I just didnt know it yet.
I am a fifth graders heart
that beats five times heavier
than healthy.
Being colored in
with too deep a red.
I'm filling up
like a landfill.
My heart has reached a
stand still.
And I'm starting to think that maybe,
Maybe a square peg can find comfort
in a round hole.